


on sparks and recovery

by Ender12300



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asshole Gerard Argent, BAMF Sheriff Stilinski, BAMF Stiles, Bad Friend everybody tbh, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Everyone Is Alive, Good Peter Hale, Hurt Stiles, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Scott is a Bad Friend, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, because thats how i roll, the pack is mean to stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-02-09 19:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12895461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ender12300/pseuds/Ender12300
Summary: Stiles is kidnapped and tortured by Gerard, but the rest of the pack doesn't know. Cue the awakening of Stiles's Spark, the arrival of an old friend, and the Stilinski family becoming closer than ever.But, with the Alpha Pack and Darach coming to Beacon Hills, everyone is in danger again.And how does one certain Creeper/Zombie Wolf fit in?Note: There is an EXTREMELY messed up timeline, and I took a lot of freedoms with this. Slow build Sterek, but I guarantee it will be there. Eventually. Also, sorry for the incredibly cheesy title and summary!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Canon Divergence-Peter is alive!! He wasn't killed, and he was like,,, unferel-ized or whatever. He found an anchor, whatever it is. Scott is not a True Alpha!!! The pack are kinda assholes at the beginning, but they get better! I don't really remember how the actual season went but yeah. 
> 
> I DO NOT OWN ANY PART OF TEEN WOLF!! I love the show, but I own only the plot of this story! There will be a lot of my own takes on the show! There's probably some continuity mistakes, and I'd love some constructive critisism! Thanks!  
> Also, I update like,,, really slowly... sorry. I've written like three chapters but I'm only uploading the prologue and chapter one for now, just so that I'm ahead before I can fall behind for now! Thank you for reading!

Gerard had taken him, lured him away, from under the noses of everyone at the lacrosse game that night, the werewolves and his dad not noticing a thing. Gerard had sneakily ensured that Stiles ran into the woods as if he was running away from the field and the destruction happening, rather than attempting to rescue the betas who had been taken before him. Then, with Erica and Boyd both passed out and unaware, Gerard and his fellow corrupt hunters kidnapped and beat Stiles in the Argent house to the verge of death. When they woke up, Stiles was terrified for them.

  
At one point, he himself passed out, and woke up nearly naked and tied up, but that was a time he would never recount, ever. At least on purpose.  
Erica and Boyd were tied up beside him, wolfsbane-covered chains giving a heavy electric shock every so often. Each time they woke up, the hunters gave a choice to Stiles; he could take twice their torture, and they would stay unharmed, or they could suffer their own amount of torture and he would not go through it. And each time, Stiles took the torture, unwilling to cause his friends more pain than was necessary. Erica and Boyd tried to convince him to stop, but Stiles never gave up.

  
When the hunters got bored of him insulting them and blabbering on about everything except the pack, they yanked him off the wall and threw him into a conveniently placed car outside. Despite the extreme pain he was in, though, Stiles still noticed Erica and Boyd blinking, bleary eyes slowly coming into focus on Stiles’s pained look. They immediately began to thrash painfully as they heard his screams and felt the agony coming off of him in waves. He gave them a reassuring look.

  
Stiles, of course, did not leave them there. After Gerard literally dropped him off at Scott’s doorstep, he had quickly and silently patched himself up using some supplies he had found in the (luckily) empty house. While the many lashes on his back were hard to clean up, and the many bruises would be hard to hide without his long sleeve shirts, very few were on his face.

  
He then threw on a few clothes that he kept in Scott’s room. He debated whether or not to steal the baseball bat, but eventually decided against it. While the puppy was extremely oblivious, his mom was not. And, Stiles didn’t want to leave her without any protection, either. While Scott had been pretty distant for the past few weeks, and mostly just abandoning him, Melissa was an amazing woman who Stiles cared about very much.

  
Then, using the last of his strength, he ran to his own house to get his Jeep (why was it not at school, and where did the keys come from?) and thanked the heavens that his phone was thrown, haphazardly, in the backseat, as well as the fact that his dad was not home yet.

  
He opened the notification-bursting messaging app, ready to reassure to Scott that he was fine, but was instead met with information about how Jackson was a kanima and that they needed his help. A few from him and Isaac even said that ‘it was okay if you ran away, but we really need your help’. The poorly hidden annoyance in the texts surprised Stiles. The shocking realization that Scott had not been looking for him, thought he was cowardly enough to run away, almost outweighed the entire situation.

  
BUt, Stiles eventually got himself back together, pushing back a heavy panic attack, before driving off to pick up Lydia. The two barely communicated, Stiles only explaining the bare minimum about past few months or so then falling silent. He could tell Lydia was curious about his face and his obvious injuries, but she, wisely, stayed quiet. Stiles didn’t think he would last emotionally if she said anything more than the bare minimum. They reached the warehouse the pack was at a short time later.

  
Seeing the pack was no better. Most of them were hurt rather majorly, but they were healing. Whispers filled the air. They were still under the impression that he had ran away at the lacrosse game, and he was able to pass off the blood and cuts on his face as lacrosse injuries. Needles stabbed his heart when none of the wolves detected his obvious lie, except for Peter, who was creeping in the corner. He probably wondered a few things, seeing as he stared at Stiles with more intensity, but luckily did not say anything. Stiles, tired of the pitying and betrayed expressions on everyone’s faces, got a quick and simple overview of what happened and left immediately to go rescue Erica and Boyd.

  
He almost missed the murmurs from the pack, rumors saying he was afraid that Jackson would attack him. To be honest, that was what hurt him the most; the fact that basically everyone thought of him as a useless, cowardly human who was too afraid to stand up to a half turned lizard. His breaths were labored and panic-filled on his way to the Argent residence.

  
As soon as Stiles hopped out of the Jeep, cuts on his back regretting it, Gerard slammed open the door of the house, flanked by three other hunters. He grabbed a knife from his trunk before taking a calming breath. His lungs burned and his injuries flared with pain, but he knew he had to help his pack, even if the rest wouldn’t help.

“Back for more, Stilinski?” Gerard smirked predatorily.

Stiles snarled, feeling the heat of anger bubbling under his skin. “Get the hell out of my way, you disgusting old man.”

Gerard simply chuckled insanely. “Oh, of course, we’ll just let you in. Tea or coffee?”

“Sarcasm doesn’t fit you.”

“Funny, but bloody skin definitely fits you.” Stiles winced, but pulled himself together.

Stiles stalked forward, eyes narrowed. He pulled out his knife, watching the blade glimmer in the light of the half-moon.

“I’m not afraid to kill you.”

“And I, you.” Gerard replied before pulling out a gun, pointing it at Stiles’s head. The silent hunters behind him followed, because of course, guns. Why wouldn’t they have guns.

Inside of the house, Stiles could hear screams of pain from Erica and Boyd, despite them being in the basement. That was the final straw. He lunged forward, aiming the knife into Gerard’s neck. He watched, satisfied, as the expression of shock overtook the monster’s face. The other three hunters immediately shot at Stiles, barely deterred by the murder. The bullets, however, simply bounced off of an invisible shield that had, somehow, appeared. Wasting little time in questioning it, he pulled the knife out of Gerard’s neck and attacked the other hunters.

  
The next half an hour or so passed by in a blur. After pushing aside the dead bodies, he had ran downstairs, killed the hunters guarding the basement, and freed the werewolves. The two were drifting, on the border of being asleep. When Stiles came into sight, they snapped awake, glad to be rescued. Although questions were practically floating around, Erica and Boyd stayed quiet.

  
After dropping the duo off at the edge of the preserve and making sure that him being kidnapped stayed a secret, Stiles drove back home, happy to see the Sheriff’s cruiser in the driveway.. His dad had gotten home a little earlier, and after explaining (lying) to him about how he got the injuries, he basked in the comfort of being near his father. It wasn’t often that the two could spend time together, so both of them were happy to eat dinner together. It was obvious that their relationship was still strained. Lies filled the space between them and the lack of contact was taking a toll on the both of them.

  
But when they said goodnight to head to their own bedrooms, Stiles stared down the hallway to his father’s bedroom at the end. He stared, and thought. When he went into his own room, staring at the ceiling instead, he made up his mind. He was going to tell the Sheriff about the supernatural. He couldn’t handle the amount of damage it’s done to the two, and he didn't want to cause it to break entirely.

  
He also felt a little guilty about leaving Erica and Boyd so far from the loft, and telling the two betas not to say anything, but his house was on the other side of town- Erica and Boyd said it was fine, too- and he couldn’t let the pack think he was weaker than he was already thought of. He also felt bad that he left them to make up a lie themselves, but he was tired and needed a break to think of the impossible.

  
From all he knew, a Spark was simply a person with the ability to have magic. When Deaton had, very evasively, explained that Stiles most likely was a Spark, he absolutely did not think that he would become as powerful as he did. He had doubted that Stiles could go beyond manipulating mountain ash. Stiles tried not to be disappointed. But, according to the new research, Deaton might have been wrong.

  
After sifting through expansive sites of fake witches, he found the contact of someone who seemed to be an actual witch, who, luckily, lived the next town over. The site explained that she was similar to a supernatural consultant who also acted, slightly, as a therapist. He set up an appointment for exactly a week from that night, then promptly fell asleep in his bed right after.

  
He might have been impossibly overwhelmed, but he didn’t want to deal with the aftermath of both lying to and running away from the pack. He didn’t want to deal with the slam of the Sheriff’s cruiser outside. He didn’t want to deal with the pain that was slowly coming soaking into his muscles, earlier held back by adrenaline and too-strong painkillers.

  
His nightmares came in quick, but few, flashes. Gerard’s face occupied most of it. He woke up four times throughout the night, too afraid to stay asleep. He was miserable.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets with Erica and Boyd, then the witch, and his new familiar!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta! Pun not intended, by the way. But every grammatical error or other kind of mistake is all on me! Feel free to leave a comment about the mistakes you see! Thank you!

Stiles was no traditionalist. Sure, he studied herbs and read tomes of spells-both found in his attic which, apparently, stored all of his mom’s stuff-but he differed from the normal. Coincidentally, Claudia Stilinski was also a witch, and thus owned enough supplies to make Deaton raise both his eyebrows. Anyways, leave it up to him to be as different as he could be, even in the supernatural world.

  
After the Gerard Incident, his so-called ‘Spark’ had manifested into a much stronger magic, but he didn’t know how powerful it was yet. Hopefully the witch could tell him. The entire week, none of the pack contacted him, except for Erica and Boyd, and even that was limited. Throughout the week before meeting the witch, he went through the attic of the Stilinski house while his dad was gone. He had felt some magical energies from there and decided to look through.  
He did not expect the practical library stored there. Well, if six shelves of books and three shelves of random oddities could be a library.

  
Pulling out the closest book from a creaky bookshelf, dust buffeted the air and swarmed his face. Sneezing, Stiles opened to the front cover and spotted the familiar swirl of his mom’s handwriting. His eyes widened. The next book, the book after that, and every book afterwards on the next few shelves all contained the same handwriting, whether it be in the margins or claiming ownership. He spent the next few days scanning and reading as much as he could.

  
During a very intriguing book on the side effects of transforming into animals, he heard the distant sound of the doorbell ringing. Hoping it wasn’t an advertisement (he was wearing a pajama shirt with a wolf pun, as well as a pair of Batman pajama pants), he slowly crept down the stairs. Outside, Erica and Boyd were standing, stressing and whispering. He braced himself for the absolute worst.

  
The second he opened the door, though, he was bombarded with a hurricane of werewolf, Erica squeezing him tight and Boyd giving an shy but still affectionate hug. It looked like Erica was crying. Contrary to that, Boyd seemed as stoic as ever, but seemed to look softer than usual. Stiles brushed a comforting hand across both of their necks, unconsciously scenting them. They seemed to like it.

  
Stiles eventually led them inside the house, showing them to the living room.

“So, not that I don’t entirely appreciate you checking up with me, may I ask why?” He wondered, raising an eyebrow. He was genuinely surprised.

Erica shrugged. “We missed you. And we were worried about you,” she admitted.

“We wanted to thank for rescuing us that night.” Boyd spoke, relaxing with Erica on a couch.

Stiles, in turn, smiled brightly. “Oh, yeah! No problem! It’s the least I could have done! Besides, I didn’t really feel like leaving either of you in a creepy torture-basement, not if I could help.”

Erica frowned a little, but also hesitated. “Not just for that. You took the torture for yourself, even though we have a higher pain tolerance, even though we would heal. And even though the rest of the pack didn’t think you helped, you did more than them!”

Boyd stared warmly into Stiles’s eyes. “Thank you, Stiles. For all that you’ve done.”

Stiles smiled lightly, but pain and misery flashed through his eyes at the reminder. “It’s genuinely nothing. But I do have a question.”

Erica raised a prompting eyebrow.

“What did you tell the pack when you got to the loft?

“Oh, there was another pack-Derek said an Alpha Pack, remember? Well apparently, they had Derek’s sister, Cora. We just said you picked us up when you found us, and we met Cora in the Preserve. It’s the truth, but not the full one. They got off our tails when Derek saw Cora.” Erica replied, winking at the pun at the end.

Stiles laughed at the pun before processing the rest of the sentence. He remembered Derek mentioning the Alpha Pack. He also recalled the Hale Family, consisting of Talia, Alexander, Peter, Laura, Derek, and Cora Hale, as well as many others. As distant relatives had been visiting, only Peter, Derek, and now apparently Cora remained of the Hale Family.

“Is the rest of the pack okay, though?”

“Yeah, they’re okay. But they…” Boyd sighed, eyes downcast.

Erica sighed and looked down as well, finishing Boyd’s sentence. “Derek and Scott agreed that we should consider distancing us from you. They said that since you apparently didn’t help us, and that you’re human and a liability, we shouldn’t associate with you. We tried to stop them, but they just looked at us weirdly.”

Stiles froze. Derek, he would understand. But Scott? His best friend? He couldn’t believe it. “Scott agreed to this?”

Boyd murmured. “He was the one who suggested it. Derek hesitated but eventually enforced it.”

No. No way. Scott thought he was a liability. Stiles breathed deeply, centering himself. “I… I’m sorry, can we talk later? I genuinely want to talk, but I just need time.”

Both Erica and Boyd smiled cautiously. “Of course,” they agreed, standing up and heading to the door.

“Be careful,” Erica spoke quietly. “Don’t do anything reckless. We’ll keep your secret about Gerard, but don’t do anything stupid.” She reached over and gave a light, comforting hug to Stiles. “Please, be careful. You have someone to take care of you, right?”

Stiles hesitated before answering. “I’m telling my dad about all this, maybe later this week, after I meet with a therapist, of a sort.”

Erica grinned. “Good.” She shut the front door, jogging to catch up with Boyd at the car. She turned around, waving and smiling sympathetically.

Stiles stared out the window after the duo until the car was out of sight. He felt something in him shrivel up and die. Most likely part of his heart, or maybe the pack bond was tearing. Either way, he didn’t need either of them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before leaving for his meeting with the witch, Aria, he stopped by Deaton’s. However, his magic screamed internally until he moved away, just before he could be sensed by any magic done by the vet. Stiles wasn’t exactly surprised; he was always suspicious of Deaton. There was a weirdly large amount of symbols and runes carved into the walls and doorways of the vet office, and he was sure at least half of them were offensive rather than defensive.

  
As he drove through the long road that connected Beacon Hills to the rest of society and Beacon County, he watched the sun rise higher and higher. Waking up at five in the morning on a Saturday was not Stiles’s ideal situation, but his appointment was at six-thirty and the witch seemed to be very strict about punctuality. He revised his schedule in his brain as he steered his car through the nearly empty highway.

  
First, he needed to actually meet the witch and, as the place was a magical shop, hopefully buy some books and/or charms. Then, he needed to go talk to Scott to find out what really happened with the kanima and Allison. An ache spread through his chest when he thought about the friend that had apparently considered him weak, but he promptly ignored it.

  
Finally, he was going to tell his dad about werewolves and magic and all the things that had happened in the past year or so. The Sheriff had gone long enough without knowing what a single thing going on was. Judging by the attic, he had at least a small idea as to what the supernatural was. But, he’d probably like to know that his own son had been running around with werewolves for nearly a year now.

  
He ran out of time to think of anything next, as he had arrive at the destination. He didn’t know what he was expecting. Unsurprisingly, a cozy, popular-looking bookstore was not the main thing that came to mind. The shop seemed to have a steady flow of customers despite it being barely past dawn, and when he walked through the front door, he could definitely see why.

  
Bookshelves were lined with various books with various genres, comfy nooks were spread throughout the store, and the walls were painted with bright and cheerful colors. A coffee bar took up a large amount of space in one corner and was populated by many college students and weary parents. From the low ceiling hung small chandeliers, lighting up the entire shop. At first, he thought he was in the wrong place until he saw a back door reading ‘Aria Winston’. He walked up to the counter to ask to be let in when a stern-looking but still smiling woman opened the door. She was younger than he had expected, looking around 35 or so.

  
Her height was decidedly medium, but more on the short side. Her chestnut brown hair was tied up in a stylishly messy ponytail, giving the illusion of a teenager rather than a mature adult. Small scars and freckles covered her face. Her clothes were stylish but comfy, and her posture was relaxed. She looked, for lack of better words like a timeless soul, yet still young.

“Stiles, I’d take it?” The woman, presumably Aria, called out. Her voice was strong but kind.

“Uh, yes, hi, that’s me!” Stiles answered. “Ms. Winston?”

The woman snorted. “Just Aria. Ms. Winston is my mom.” She opened the door wider to let him in the homely room.

Stiles smiled, walking inside and looking around the room. Paintings of foreign landscapes were littered across the walls and bookshelves filled with old tomes and various trinkets were strewn in organized chaos. A single door with halloween stickers stayed behind the messy desk and colorful chairs. The floors were carpeted and the walls were patterned, leaving an inviting imprint in his mind.

“Take a seat, Stiles.” Aria said, sitting in her own chair behind the desk.

When the two became comfortable, she spoke again. “So, what are you here for today? I understand that you have some genuine questions about magic, but it seems very urgent.”

Stiles took a deep breath. “So, this all started a while ago when my best friend, Scott, was bitten by a somewhat feral Alpha werewolf, which ended up being Derek Hale’s uncle, Peter. After that fiasco ended, Derek kinda became the Alpha after killing Peter and created a pack with Scott and a few other willingly bitten werewolves, along with a few non-werewolves, including me.”

Aria raised an eyebrow, but let him continue. “A few weeks ago, this one dude in our pack became a kanima and basically went on a rampage, controlled by a guy named Matt Daehler. And then Gerard Argent-” Aria visibly winced, “- came and kidnapped then tortured me and two other pack members, but since nobody but them know that I was kidnapped, they think I ran away.

“Then I escaped, went and saved the Pack by basically slamming into the kanima with my car, he got saved with the power of True Lovetm, and then I went back to save my other two pack members and that’s where everything gets more complicated.”

Stiles gulped for air, still confused but not entirely shocked about his ability to ramble on for so much. Aria seemed very startled but also amused by the outburst. Stiles, though, grew slightly more somber about the next part.

“As I was rescuing them, I guess I used magic? I’m not sure though. Anyways, when I heard them screaming, I kinda went into The Zonetm or something. I got really fast somehow and there was some kind of barrier that blocked the bullets that the hunters shot at me.” His fall fell. “I ended up killing all eight of the hunters, but I don’t really remember how, except that there was some kind of fire that, I think, I caused.”

Aria’s eyes widened, and she asked, “Is there anything else?”

“Apparently, my mom was some kind of witch, if the books in my attic tells me anything. And, when I finally got access to my phone, back when I escaped, Scott wasn’t looking for me.” Stiles said the last part rather bitterly.

Aria raised a calculating eyebrow. She searched through the large amount of information that had been previously thrown at her.

“Your mother was a witch?”

“Or something, yeah. I went through my attic a few days ago, tried to learn as much as possible. There was a lot though, but I had time because the pack didn’t exactly seem very… welcoming after that night.”

“Was your mother Claudia Stilinski by any chance?”

Stiles’s eyes snapped up and his back went straight. “Yeah, why?”

Aria smiled wistfully. “She was a very good friend of mine over the years, helped me out in a lot of things. The entire magical community seemed to grow dimmer after her death.” He could, somehow, tell that she was not lying. He felt that he could trust her.

Stiles wilted, growing sadder from each word being said. “She never… never told me, showed me, anything magical.”

“Well, I suppose that was to protect you. Knowledge was even more dangerous back then than it is now. Before, if you knew, a similar circumstance would have happened with Gerard, just with you being younger. Information, I suspect, would have flowed freely; Gerard is merciless, even with children.”

“Oh…” Stiles could understand. Gerard had sort of beaten the importance of information into him only a week ago. He didn’t remember saying anything, but he might have blurted something out in his delirious state of mind.

Aria gasped brightly. “You must be Przemysław then!”

Stiles winced. “Yeah, please call me Stiles.”

Aria laughed as Stiles thought over their conversation.

“...I know it might be a lot to ask, but can you help me with my magic? Or, if you can’t, do you know of someone who can?” Stiles asked hesitantly. Even though Gerard was dead, he wanted to be able to protect himself from other supernatural beings.

Aria grinned. “Even without you doing magic, I can tell you are extremely powerful. I would be very honored to take on an apprentice as skilled as you, even without training.” Her eyes gleamed. “But first, I need to ask you a few questions. They will determine how far you are willing to go.”

Stiles nodded, beaming. He was happier than he had been the entire week!

“So, I need to know your opinion on these things.” Her voice grew serious and intense. “Do you understand that magic is a frustrating and very complicated process? You must know that the way I teach is not light and easy. You will be extremely tired, every day, and busy even without normal school homework. Are you entirely okay with that? Remember, you can back out whenever.”

He thought it over for a moment. Without the now close-to-daily pack meetings, he should have a bit more time. He agreed.

“Alright. Next, do you agree to keep everything you learn here a secret from everyone, at least until you master it, and have my approval, unless it is a complete emergency? You cannot speak about this to anyone-not your pack, not Scott, but your dad should be safe if he is sworn to secrecy. Under no circumstance will you talk about this to anyone.”

Stiles nodded immediately. A spike of sadness shot through his heart when he remembered that the pack would not talk to him, so he had no one to tell regardless.

“And one of the last, what you feel about tattoos?” Aria smirked.

“Uh…”

She began explaining. “These tattoos, basically permanent runes, will help you boost your skill-not that you seem to need them-, let you more easily harness and control your magic, and,” she smiled, “they look absolutely badass. Of course, they are not necessary, but I think they are a good idea for you to hide, control, and center your magic a little.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, thinking. “I can talk to my dad about it. I’m telling him about everything going on later today, so I can ask him then?”

Aria seemed to agree as well, nodding and standing to stretch. “Well, no student of mine will suffer telling their dad about this insanity. I can come with you, if you’d like? If it’s okay with you, I’d also like to see the collection of Claudia’s things? She always had a knack for collecting things.”

He hesitated. Aria seemed trustworthy enough, and his gut had never let him down before. Except for Scott, but he didn’t count. “Okay, I guess. I need to stop by the diner first, though. Have to get some food to dull down the shock, I think.”

Aria chuckled. “Well, before that happens, follow me. The actual magic shop is back here, and I think you might like to see some things.”

After pulling open the brightly painted door, she ushered him in. Stiles, unashamedly, gaped. Shelves the height of the weirdly tall ceilings were stuffed to the brim with both magical oddities and books as thick as Scott’s brain (haha no regrets). In one corner seemed to be potion making items, another held charmed jewelry, and the other two had animals of every size and breed. It was like if Diagon Alley had been compressed into a single backroom, as trippy as the measurements were. A door near the cash register was labeled ‘Tattoos’.

“If you need any materials, just come back here. Today, if you’d like, you can meet your familiar.” Aria seemed amused by Stiles’s shock.

“My familiar? I already have one?”

“No, no, familiars pick you. Whether it be a moth to a polar bear, the familiars will be your magical companion. They will help you channel your magic. All familiars will go to the nearest familiar retreat, a magical shop such as this one, to their companion. That would be here, then.” She explains. Stiles was so grateful for her clarity. Deaton would have only explained that they were magical animals.

Stiles grinned and followed Aria to the animals. Some reacted harshly, hissing and spitting at him, while others were indifferent.

“While some of these animals are normal, like cats, birds, and even tigers and wolves, we also have so truly magical ones such as unicorns and gryphons. In fact, we got a dragon a week or two ago! Those are some of the rarest familiars! Apparently, only eight other people, recorded, have ever had a dragon. One of them was Merlin himself!”

They walked closer, Stiles scanning the animals. Although the area looked crowded but the animals were strangely spaced out. He simply brushed it off as another magic thing. A small group of lions were cuddled together, and around fifteen multi-colored birds flocked the trees. A single dragon, high and mighty, watched over the familiars carefully. Its scales shimmered in the artificial light, glowing blue and blue. In the corner opposite of the dragon, though, a wounded fox was curled up, dozing away.

  
As he walked closer, the area went silent and all the animals looked up at him. The dragon’s turquoise eyes held an intense gaze over him, and the fox’s golden eyes snapped up to meet his. Aria’s eyebrow raised, but she said nothing. The animals soon began to flick their gaze between the fox, dragon, and Stiles. Only the two previously mentioned familiars kept a steady watch on him.

  
At nearly the same exact time, both of them stalked closer to him. The dragon’s magnificent wings unfolded beside him and revealed a bright green underside. It looked rather young, barely reaching Stiles’s shoulder, but muscular and strong. The fox, though barely half the size of the dragon, covered in scars, still looked intimidatingly fearless. It looked to be a red fox, small patches of white dotting the otherwise fiery red fur. A mischievous intelligence glinted in its eyes.

  
When they reached a few feet away, the glanced at each other, fury in both eyes. The dragon’s seemed like acid and the fox’s like fire. They circled around each other, growls and snarls exchanged. Soon, the dragon darted forward, claws glimmering and teeth gnashing. The fox retaliated with a swipe of his own before darted away from the dragon.

  
Stiles reached forward to seperate them, startled by the aggression, but was stopped by Aria’s arm. Her mouth was open in astonishment.

“They are fighting over you! I’ve never seen anything like it! Dragon familiars are extremely rare, and having two familiars is practically unheard of! And dragons, despite how young this one may be, is still stronger than a fox, especially one a wounded as this.” Aria exclaimed excitedly.

Stiles could only stare in wide-eyed shock. The familiars were fighting over him? And a fox fighting with a dragon, no less! Unsurprisingly, the dragon was winning. The fox, no matter how strong, was overpowered. But, as the dragon threw the bloody fox across the room, he also noticed bleeding scratches and bite marks littering the scales and snout of the dragon.

  
What surprised him more was, as the fox stalked closer, its eyes glowed even brighter than before. The intensity shook him to his core, fire blazing bright. Despite the small size of the fox, its determination seemed unrivaled. Its aura held a cleverness and mischievousness that matched Stiles’s own. The fox ran forward, throwing his body at the dragon. Unprepared for the sudden attack, the dragon collapsed under the strength of the fox holding him down.

  
The dragon roared in pain, claws ripping into the fox’s back in an attempt to escape. The fox whined loudly in pain, scratches bleeding profusely. But, he did not give in, digging his teeth and claws into the throat of the dragon. Finally, the dragon escaped the grasp, flinching when the fox snarled at him with a bloody muzzle. It had given up. It backed up before glowing bright, vanishing into nothing.

  
Stiles winced, almost collapsing at the white-hot pain radiating across his lower back. When Aria raised his shirt to look at his back, she whispered a small, ‘Holy shit,’ before dropping the edge and refusing to say anything. Deciding to pay attention at the preening fox, he ran forward, meeting it in the middle. The fox leapt up, eyes shining but still bleeding. But, when Stiles touched the skin of the fox, he felt a small pull from his core as the wounds of the fox healed.

“Well, that was an interesting familiar claim!” Aria said, eyebrow raised.

As they sat down in Aria’s office again, the fox began licking at a large cut that hadn’t healed.

“...What…?” Stiles managed weakly.

“That was a familiar claim. Also, you got a tattoo? It’s the dragon that the fox fought. The fox was healed because you are basically her familiar? Honestly I don’t know entirely either.” Aria looked baffled as she thought it over.

“So I have a tattoo anyways? And what does a familiar even do?”

“I would suspect that you will, eventually, have a fox tattoo on your heart, too. A familiar is basically your magical companion. You will die if your familiar dies, and vice versa. Many spells also require the help of a familiar, so there’s that too. What I’m curious about, though, is how this little one defeated a dragon, who also laid a familiar claim on you,” she responds. “But we’ll talk about that later. Right now, it’s about two, so let’s go check out Claudia’s stuff, shall we?”

Aria yelled at the person at the checkout desk that she was leaving for a bit before leading Stiles to the exit, the fox in his arms. She glanced at the broken down Jeep once, rolled her eyes and sighed, and said, “I remember Claudia being in love with that thing. Named it Rossie or something.”

“Her name is Roscoe,” Stiles corrected, sliding into the front seat and letting the fox hop into the backseat. He really needed to name the fox, it gets tiring calling the fox the fox, he thought.

Throughout the drive, Aria talked about how the familiars claim works. It basically connects their magic, giving them some weird magical bond or whatever. The familiar will have a certain pull to each other, should anything bad happen. The tattoo, she assumes, means that the dragon is also bonded to him, and will help if anything happens.

  
The familiars are able to roam freely, and Aria assured Stiles that the fox would be okay on her own, and that she was one of the smartest familiars the shop had ever encountered. The fox had snuck out many times, resulting in Aria freaking out nearly as many times. But, she had always returned not a day later with fresh prey that many of the other carnivores preferred over the food the shop fed them.

  
Aria told Stiles that the fox did not like any kind of chicken, but enjoyed bacon and steaks. Veggies were a no-go but she loved watermelon and apples. However, oranges and other citrus-y fruits made her sick. She loved comfy pillows but hated having blankets over her. Sunny spots in window sills were her preferred method of warming up, but also enjoyed dancing in the rain and snow.

Finally, Stiles asked the question that had been brewing in his mind for a while. “How… How did she get those scars? And why didn’t they heal?”

Aria hesitated for a second. “Well, the fox has been at the shop for a little over eight months. That’s longer than any other familiar at this specific shop. We think that she was attacked with magic while venturing here. With familiars, they get a sort of pull to their companion. But, familiars are also targeted due to their naturally powerful magic, as well as magical animals being in the use of many spells.

  
“When familiars are going to find their companions, it’s called a Seeking. During a familiar’s Seeking, their magical power is boosted to almost the maximum. It is the strongest the animal can get before it is bonded. We can only assume that what, or whoever attacked her was magic, which is why she will not heal.”

Stiles’s eyebrows furrowed in shock. “That’s horrible!”

“Yeah, tell me about it. There have been even worse attacks in the past. We’ve found animals nearly dead from that torture. In fact, we’ve seen a few cases where a familiar was forcefully bound using dark magic. The only way to kill the forceful companion was to kill the familiar, and I was the one put to the job. I quit being a magical hunter for those things, and rather a therapist of sorts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't feel comfortable ending it here, or starting the next chapter as it did, but oh well, I guess? I hope you like the story so far! The story might feel a little rushed, but the next few chapters might not, I hope? Thanks for reading! Leave a comment and some kudos!


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting home, Stiles and Aria clean up the attic. When the Sheriff gets home, the three talk. But, after he leaves back to the station and Aria back to her shop, Stiles is confronted by the Alpha Pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading and showing so much positive support! I apologize for not getting out this chapter faster! The publication of the next chapter might take some time, as I still haven't gotten into the rhythm of writing it yet. 
> 
> Warning: Stiles almost has a panic attack! He doesn't have one completely, but just as a head's up!

 

The car was tense after that. The fox had curled up on Stiles’s lap, snuffling in her sleep. Finally, they arrived at Carrie’s Diner, the best diner in Beacon Hills. The atmosphere cleared up as they ordered their food to-go. The smell of oily curly fries and fatty cheeseburgers wafted through the air. The fox rummaged through the food, pawing at Stiles’s leg when he took away the bag. He tossed a curly fry to the backseat before starting the car, making the drive back to his house. He chatted with Aria about magic, planning out a schedule for magic classes.

The cruiser wasn’t in the driveway when they reached the Stilinski Residence, but there were signs that the Sheriff had come home at one point. Take-out cartons were strewn across the table, most likely knocked over in his haste to get to work, making Stiles roll his eyes.

A note saying, ‘leftovers in the fridge. don’t forget to eat. love you.” was stuck on the table, handwriting scribbled in his rush. Stiles smiled lightly, but soon frowned. THe meant his dad had come home, probably expecting a meal together, but found the house empty. Guilt filled his heart, reminding him that he still needed to tell the Sheriff about everything.

 

“Not that I don’t think your emotions important, but I think we can talk to your dad later. Claudia, I believe, borrowed a very important book of mine that I’d like to take back, I’d think,” Aria diverted his attention, tone soft and kind.

 

Stiles nodded and led her to the attic. Nothing had changed. The fox pranced in with them, sneezing at the still large amount of dust in the air. Seeing a patch of sun streaming through the window, she hopped over and found a comfortable position on a rug on the floor. Then, she promptly drifted off into a light sleep.

Aria moved silently toward the books, but spotted something within the objects. A small ring with an engraved symbol sat on a shelf, placed atop a small, red pillow. Beside it was a large, tattered book and other the other side, a large knife. While Stiles had noticed them before, he had previously decided he would not touch any of the objects until he was sure none of them had curses on them.

The ring was a work of art; in the design of a triskelion, three gems were laid in the center of each of the spirals. One was an orange one-amber. One was blue-sapphire. The last one was magenta, but Stiles didn’t recognize it. In the center of the triskele was a circular gem, radiating different colors in the light-rainbow obsidian. Although it would barely fit his pointer finger, the silver band was extremely detailed for it’s size. It depicted flames, waves, gusts, and leaves. On the other side was an eye, stunningly detailed with a shining purple iris. It was surrounded by a triangle made of small, black chains.

 

“It’s a mix of all of our symbols,” Aria spoke quietly. “The triskelion has been used by the Hale Pack for centuries now, and it’s formed by amber, representing purification and protection, sapphire, representing truth and loyalty, and hematite, representing clarity and is one of the most powerful grounding gems. The rainbow obsidian in the center represents emotional health, and is also used for grounding. Talia showed the symbol with pride.

“I’m an elementalist, meaning I can manipulate the elements of water, earth, fire, and air. My symbol is the circle of waves, leaves, flames, and gusts of wind, which forms the band. It’s simple, but my family has passed on the circle since we began practicing elementalism. The symbol was made by the first person to use witchcraft in my family.

“Finally, the eye on the back. The symbol is called the All-Seeing Eye, and it’s on the dollar bill and, weirdly enough, mis-construed as the symbol of the Illuminati. Claudia was a seer, meaning she had the ability to see parts of the future. The iris is made of zircon, a gem used by many seers as it represents true sight. The triangle is made of obsidian, which is helpful for stability, clearing negativity, and scrying.”

 

Stiles stared, wide-eyed at the new information. He digested the meanings of all the gems before turning to the next item: the knife.

The knife had a braided, worn handle of what looked to be genuine leather. Imprints in the patterned cloth were pressed and natural, meaning the weapon had been used often. And the rear end, a pommel with a small ruby also had the design of a small vine curling around. The blade was stunning, too. Pure obsidian with sharpened edges and point. It was beautiful.

 

“Many other covens persuaded us to fall into the traditions of their covens, with ritual knives like athames and bolines. But, we didn’t perform many rituals or ceremonies, so we have a dagger for all purposes, including protection. The handle is leather, with amazonite underneath, representing the simple truth. The ruby means passion and confidence, while the blade, made from obsidian.”

 

The book, a dusty old tome, had ripped pages and a cover with fancy, swooping handwriting, but still readable. It was no smaller than his laptop and had yellowed pages. The cover itself was a faded crimson with a braided border of gold. He hesitated to touch it, afraid that it would fall apart in his hands, but was pleasantly surprised that it stayed perfectly stable.

 

“That’s the Stilinski-Hale Grimoire, actually.” Aria broke the silence.

 

“...Stilinski-Hale?” Stiles stared.“

 

“Yeah. Claudia, Talia, and I were pretty good friends. Claudia got the idea of putting the Stilinski Grimoire, which is basically a spellbook with personal accounts, summonings, and other magic stuff, and the Hale Bestiary, together.”

 

Huh.

 

Stiles flipped through the soft pages, both familiar and unfamiliar handwriting flashing before. Although the actual pages were still handwritten, small notes were also in the margins. Spells ranging from pranks to blood sacrifices, phrases to summon ghosts to demons, and potion recipes from love to death. Information and illustrations on all different types of creatures were located in the back, words written in almost-too-small, cramped letters in order to fit all of the facts on their strengths, weaknesses, and appearance.

 

“You should probably keep that safe, okay?” Aria spoke. “It’s very important; don’t let it get into  the wrong hands. There’s facts on very important people in there, and we can’t risk others learning about it. Claudia, Talia, and I wrote many variations of it, each more advanced than the one before. I believe that soon, you should try to update it, too.”  


Stiles nodded, understanding the importance of the Grimoire but also brightening by mention of his mother. He was, obviously, excited to begin his magical training. From what he saw from his light scanning, there was so much he would learn! So, while the two searched through the attic, Aria continued to explain what everything was or meant.

Mixed in with the explanations were small anecdotes of her and her friends. Over the course of the next hour or so, Stiles had learned multiple spells, including healing and levitation. It was a lot more than he had learned on his own, so he was very thankful to have a teacher. Despite having nearly an entire week to figure things out, his way of learning was very scattered and inefficient.

But, while this was one of the most fun and exciting experiences, Stiles couldn’t help but remember Scott and his abandonment. A spike of disappointment flashed through him and, while he tried to brush it off, he couldn’t forget it once it had appeared. Luckily, the Sheriff arrived just then. He had never thanked the deities more.

 

Stiles could hear the Sheriff moving around in the kitchen, sifting through the fridge and turning on the coffee machine. He glanced at Aria and whispered,

“Do I tell him?”, and she nodded, beginning to put away all of the books and objects.

 

“Dad? I’m upstairs, but can you go to the living room?” He yelled down the stairs.

 

There was silence for just a few minutes, until his father yelled back, “Okay? Sure. Weird request, but okay.”

 

So, he grounded himself, preparing for the talk that was soon to ensue.

 

“Aria? What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you, but still!” The Sheriff gasped when Stiles and the aforementioned woman walked into the room.

 

“Sheriff, sir! Good to see you too! I am here for reasons that will soon be explained by Stiles here. And,” she seemed to direct the next part to said teenager, “he _will not_ leave out any details, even if they include blood and torture.”

 

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow. “I’m a little tired of people calling me Sheriff when I’m not on the job. You know this; my name is John.” He paused. “Well, no it’s not, but it’s easier to say. Anyways. I want to hear about this. If it has to do with the topics that Claudia always evaded, I am a little concerned as to how this involves my son.”

 

Stiles breathed deeply before launching into his explanation.

 

“So, it started maybe… half a year ago? Anyways, it was when Laura’s body was found. Scott was bitten with this weird dog thing, so I started digging deeper. Now, this is the part you need to prepare yourself for. I also need you to believe me.”

 

“Scott was bitten by a rogue Alpha werewolf.”

 

Silence.

“What.”

 

“Yeah, that was my reaction too.”

 

“Well, now that I look back on it, I can kinda see that. I mean, I used to think it was just teenage hormones that made Scott so growly. I mean, I feel like you would get involved in some extreme trouble one way or another, but I didn’t really think it would be the supernatural.”

 

“You’re reacting to it rather well,” Stiles raised an eyebrow.

 

“I’m mostly storing it to freak out later on. And, Claudia told me a little.”

 

Aria, in the background, smiles lightly. “And I think you should talk to Stiles more about her. He needs to know.”

John frowned. “...Okay. But what for?”

 

“I’m magical, Dad.”

 

“And one of the most powerful mages I’ve ever seen, too!” Aria added.

 

John stared. “I-I… Okay, that’s where I get a little lost.”

 

Aria grinned. “I’ve agreed to train him is his abilities. With the right training, he will be a strong candidate to become a High Mage! He potential is very strong, and I would not be surprised if he can do very high level spells sooner than later.”

 

The fox chose this moment to trot down the stairs, apparently too lonely to stay in the attic.

 

John stared.

 

“Yeah, we wanted to tell you about her, too.” Aria chuckled nervously. “She’s Stiles’s familiar, which means she will help Stiles channel and store his magic. She’s also unnamed.”

 

Stiles suddenly jumped up, as if he had an idea, which he did. Obviously. “Since you’re kind of caught up in this whirlwind of events,” he spoke to his father, “you can name her! As long as she likes the name, of course.”

 

John sighed, but nodded. “Okay, but you might regret it. Claudia may have had a hand in choosing your name, but I’m the one who suggested it as an option.”

 

Aria snorted and Stiles groaned.

 

“Seriously? That was you? Couldn’t you have, I dunno, not picked a Polish baby name book?” Stiles complained.

 

John shrugged. “Probably, but Claudia loved the name. I didn’t want to argue.”

 

He and Aria smiled wistfully at the memories. Then, the fox jumped on Stiles and ruined the nostalgic mood of the room.

 

“Right, yes, okay. The fox.” John muttered. “I guess I go with one of the names we thought about for you, Stiles. But I also need the feminine version.”

 

“Maryla?”

 

The fox turned his head, huffing in indignation.

 

“Guess not, then. Katarzyna?”

 

The fox growled.

 

John brightened. “We actually almost named you this, until we saw Przemysław. Bronisława?”

 

The fox’s head snapped up and it seemed to smile.

 

The trio of humans also smiled. “Hello, Bronis, how are you?” they said.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The day passed by relatively quickly. He chose not to mention Gerard, hoping to keep that topic locked away forever. It probably wasn’t healthy, and his wounds itched and ached, but he didn’t want his father to worry about more than he had to. If keeping information about Stiles’s pain would lengthen his dad’s life span just a little longer, he would never mention a stab wound to the Sheriff.

After explaining the rest of the supernatural events, Stiles started to make a list of all the things he needed to get from Bronis, aiming to be productive that day. The nearest pet store wasn’t too far, and he wanted to make sure Bronis was as comfortable as possible. Aria assured him that specific food was not needed, as she could hunt on her own, but he might want to check anyway. Besides, she might appreciate a few toys, or maybe a dog bed of some kind.

While the sky was not yet dark, he set aside the list, deciding to go shopping tomorrow. He wanted to begin organizing the attic sooner than later, as the next supernatural probably wouldn’t wait for him to get neater. His dad had left for the station after the trio (quartet, including Bronis) ate dinner while Aria went back to her shop after getting an important call a few minutes after the Sheriff left. Bronis was in the attic, bathing in the last of the fading sunlight.

Ignoring the sharp pain in his back, Stiles began to clear the six shelves holding the spellbooks, deciding to organize those first. He sorted the books by topic.. Simply clearing the shelves took nearly an hour, but he decided the muscle mass he probably gained was worth the aching in his arms. The piles of books he as left with covered nearly every inch of the attic.

Then, almost swimming in the volumes on practically every magical subject there ever was, he divided the piles into Herbs, Potions, Runes/Language, Symbolic Shit, Magical Creatures (the nice ones), Magical Creatures (the mean ones), ‘Other’, and the last pile being small bestiaries and grimoires. However, the Hale-Stilinski Bestiary would find it’s own place in Stiles’s room, most likely on his extremely messy and overcrowded desk. Of course, he also needed to clean that up.

He organized each shelf to contain a different subject, combining the Herbs and Potions, as well the Magical Creatures. Then, the perfectionist side of Stiles began organizing each subject by the way his and his dad’s brain used. While John often showed the process more, he still experienced the same wild logic jumps as Stiles did. With their way, using the small library would be difficult for anyone except those two. But, it was simple, and Stiles was still confused why no one else used it.

Instead of organizing the creatures alphabetically, he sorted through the books to find how it looks, like the color or shape, as well as if it is a shapeshifter or not. THen, the plants were organized based on the color, shape, size, and whether or not it bears fruit. Both the Spells and Potions were sorted into levels of maliciousness and what it does. The Languages were sorted into how common it was, and what kind of alphabet it used. Bestiaries were sorted based on how detailed each book was.

Finally, he finished sorting two piles and was nearly done with the Potions when a loud growl could be heard through the open attic window. By that time, the sun had gone down completely and Stiles could see the nearly full moon shining through his window, lighting up the dusty attic.

Bronis was curled up on one of the book piles, drifting between sleeping and lazily watching the organization process. She hopped to the windowsill to peak outside, gazing down at the backyard. Stiles joined her, peering below. He gasped as he watched two dark figures first put something down, then lumber away into the preserve, leaving behind a dead deer. THey ran quickly, and Stiles recognized their stature from when Peter was the Alpha. He also recognized the spiral on the deer.

They were with the Alpha Pack, and he had been marked with revenge, as evidenced by the spiral. He didn’t exactly know why they wanted revenge on him, but it had happened. Everything suddenly got just a tad bit more real. Luckily, his dad pulled up into the driveway just as he painfully bounded down the attic stairs, aiming to check the deer. If he was not there, Stiles would have freaked out alone. His breath already came in sharp pants, and he didn’t want it to escalate.

John rushed in, pulling the panicking Stiles into his chest before he could reach the back door. He held his son close, slowly making his way to the couch. He died a little inside when Stiles flinched for a second when he reached for him.

 

“Hey,” he whispered. “Calm down. Remember to breathe. We’ll get through this together.”

 

Stiles gasped for breath again, but finally coughed out a coherent sentence. “The-The Alpha Pack… Deer in th-the yard…” Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “Alpha Pack, murderous rogue werewolves, don’t know much else about them. Have to ask De-” He faltered.

 

His father gasped, eyes widening. “So you were marked by a bunch of killer werewolves?”

 

Stiles slumped over. “Yeah, basically. De-Derek,” he stuttered, “was marked by them just before Gerard kidnapped me. From what I know, this is the first time they’ve marked someone with a deer.” Then, he froze in realization.

 

John stared. “What the hell do you mean Gerard kidnapped you?”

 

“Um, it wasn’t that bad..?” Stiles squeaked nervously.

 

“Stiles, why the hell didn’t you tell me? Was it Gerard Argent? Let me see.” He demanded.

 

“I didn’t want you to worry so much about me, yes, and no thanks?”

 

John’s eyes narrowed in anger. “I am your father! It is my job to worry about you! You don’t make these decisions for me! Now let me see what he did.”

Stiles flinched before sighing. He moved to the end of the couch, wincing as the back of the couch brushed his cuts a little bit too much. He pulled off his shirt in a slow, hesitant movement, glancing only once at the uneven, messy, and bloody bandages the action revealed. He closed his eyes to ready himself. Finally, he pulled off the bandages, showing off the bloody and scarred skin underneath. He bit his lip, hearing the Sheriff gasp. He despised the pity evident in his father’s gaze.

Careful to avoid hurting Stiles, John gathered his son into a massive, comforting hug.

 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into Stiles’s shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

 

Stiles was confused. “For what? You didn’t do anything.”

 

“That’s the problem! John spoke back. “I didn’t do anything to help you, didn’t do anything to ease the pain just a little bit. Hell, I didn’t even notice you were hurting so much!”

 

Stiles’s face seemed to fall in on itself. “It’s not your fault, dad. It’s really not, okay?”

 

John sniffled. “I’m supposed to be your dad, the one who protects you from everything! If I didn’t notice you running around with dangerous werewolves and getting kidnapped, what am I going to be able to protect you from now?”

 

Stiles snorted. “To be fair, they were very sneaky werewolves, and you weren’t exactly home very often to see them anyway.”

 

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because John broke down again. “See, I’m not even home to protect you!”

 

Stiles gasped. “No, no, seriously, it’s fine! You are an amazing dad, okay? I love you, and since werewolves are so outlandish, no one can blame you for not knowing about it. I know how to protect myself from werewolves and kidnappers. I forgive you, okay? Even if you didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

John stared sadly at his son. A quiet, “You’re just like Claudia,” slipped out before he shook his head to clear it and instead said, “Let’s watch some TV and you can answer my questions while we watch, okay?” When Bronislawa jumped up onto the couch beside them, he added, “And about her.”

 

Stiles gave a small grin. “Okay.”

  


~~~

 

Of course, not everything was okay after that, but the damaged, tension filled strings between Stiles and his father were repaired with more than duct tape and guilty hope this time. After being chastised for murdering Gerard and the hunters, with threats of joking arrests, Stiles fell asleep on the couch as Star Wars played in the background, tired of the pain from where they had cleaned out and stitched the cuts closed.. John stared at the weary face of his son. He had suffered through so much, alone and without the support or knowledge of the friends that were supposed to be there for him.

Dark bags were bold underneath Stiles’s eyes, evidence of his painful nights. John was terrified of himself for not noticing how pale his son’s skin had become, for not noticing how thin his body was. Peeking out of the bottom of Stiles’s loose hoodie were multiple scars, evident of the torture he had suffered. It was as if the supernatural world chose a single, undeserving person to unload everyone else’s emotional hurt into.

How had these things escaped his notice? Within the week that these horrible acts had occurred, why hadn’t the Sheriff noticed the obvious signs of abuse and psychological trauma? The flinches and deep breathing were sure signs of it, and yet he never saw them.

John wasn’t stuck brewing in his guilt for long. Stiles snapped awake, breathing hard and panic in his eyes. John sat up straight, watching his son carefully, offering him comforting words. Bronislawa simply crawled into Stiles’s lap, nudging his chin with her nose and curling her tail around his hand. Once Stiles calmed down, nearly ten minutes later, they sat in silence for a while.

 

“Hey, dad,” Stiles started, “I think… I think it might be time to talk to the pack again. Or at least Derek. I can go tomorrow, or something, after school, maybe.”

 

John stared for a little before answering, “Yeah. Maybe. Want me to go with you?”

 

“Can you…” Stiles hesitated. “Can you stay in the car though?”

 

“Of course.”

 

John cooked up a quick dinner while Stiles and Bronislawa went to investigate the deer outside. The spiral was still fresh, a stark reminder of the violence they would have to face once they leave the comfort of their home. An idea sprung into Stiles’s head. Throughout the havoc of the supernatural world, maybe they could keep a small piece of safety with them at all times. He rushed back into the house, eager to share the idea.

 

“So I was thinking, what if we try to make some kind of safety charm to take with us everywhere? That way you’re protected against at least most monsters? Speaking of that, I’ll get you some wolfsbane bullets, and maybe some mountain ash, too. I’ll ask Aria for some spells to protect the house, and-” Stiles stopped his rambling. “Sorry.”

 

John only smiled. “Yeah, that’d be smart. Thank you.”

 

Stiles snorted. “Is it bad that the first thing I thought of was ‘No chick flick moments?’”

 

John sighed before muttering, “Set the table, kiddo.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Stiles woke up the next morning feeling oddly refreshed. Despite the dreams that still terrorized his sleep, he felt free from the confining lies to his dad. After a long moment of debate with himself, he moved aside his usual plaid monstrosity that he used to hide his rather unfavorable body and instead pulled on a navy blue longsleeve shirt, a pair of not-skinny-but-not-exactly-loose jeans, and his black converse. He wanted a new look, not the one he was used to. It was odd, but still refreshing.

His hair looked strangely nice, despite him not doing anything to it. At this length, he would usually cut it, but he thought it looked good for once and let it be. His entire look felt laid back, a contrast to the tense posture and wary gaze of the person wearing it. While not many people would see the new changes, he was still nervous about the opinions that his dad and Aria would have. What the pack thought didn’t matter, but he still wanted to wear something nicer than usual.

He jogged downstairs, shocked to see his dad already awake. A hot plate of eggs and bacon was placed in front of Stiles’s empty chair while John nursed a cup of steaming coffee. John glanced up when he heard Stiles enter the kitchen.

 

“Nice clothes! Where the hell did you even get them?” John snorted.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Under all the plaid. Did you make me coffee too?”

 

John sighed and nodded his head. “There’s some left in the pot. Gotta make sure you’re ready to face school and the werewolves. Can’t have you falling asleep halfway through class!”

 

Stiles froze, then wilted. He had forgotten about meeting with the pack after school. John noticed his weary sigh and slump.

 

“Hey, I’ll be here the entire time, okay? If you need to take a break, just call me and I’ll come pick you up or something, okay? I’ll drop you off at school, and we can leave to the pack when you get out of school.”

 

Stiles smiled at his father lovingly. “Thanks, dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, again, for reading! Leave some comments and kudos!


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles confronts the pack. When he gets home, though, it all goes to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This is a lot shorter, but it didn't feel right to make it longer, and I didn't want to keep you guys waiting!
> 
> WARNING: Stiles has a panic attack! Like, a full blown panic attack! Please understand that I've never had a complete panic attack, and not everyone has one the same way! I made Stiles had ones that caused his thoughts to become overcrowded and, well, panicky, and if that triggers you, please be careful! Thank you.

School was probably more stressful than it’d ever been before. Roscoe was left at home while the Sheriff dropped off Stiles at the school. He waved goodbye to his dad, ignoring the raised eyebrows from critiquing classmates. He knew he was a lot lankier than the other high-schoolers, with an unfavorable body, and his new choice in fashion, unfortunately, showed that off. He regretted choosing the shirt and pants that he did. He was also not aware that his classmates were whistling in appreciation.

The pack were huddled around Scott’s locker, down the hall of his own. They gave a single glance to Stiles, but paid no other attention to him. Erica gave an encouraging smile, however, and Boyd gave a proud nod. He smiled back before rushing off to his first block class.

Without anyone to sit with, he found an empty seat in the back corner that had not yet been claimed. He spent the rest of class doodling absentmindedly on the side of his notes, paying little mind to the teacher. He’d already read this lesson, anyway, and could look over the notes he’d forced himself to write. When the bell rang, he was surprised to see a detailed copy of the Hale-Stilinski-Winston ring, including each leaf and wave of intricate band, and the diamonds of the All-Seeing Eye.

The next block, English, was a little more difficult, as there was a substitute by the name of Jennifer Blake. While she was a pretty good teacher, Stiles felt off around her, and stayed wary during the class. He stared at the woman, trying to understand why she felt so weird, but eventually gave up and began drawing again. This time, he drew the fight between Bronislawa and the dragon, who he had named Grzegorz with Aria. He sketched out the scene where Bronis had finally turned the tides of the battle, with a fiery accent floating behind him. Grzegorz, on the other hand, had wispy green streaks fluttering around as he was forced down. 

The sound of the bell ringing again snapped him out of his drawing. As he gathered his things, he thought about what would happen at Derek’s Loft later. He didn’t know how he would react. Hell, he didn’t even know what Derek thought had happened. Judging by what Erica and Boyd had told him, the pack was under the illusion that he was useless. But, Derek’s apparent hesitation to prevent contact with Stiles meant that he was, at the very least, sympathetic to Stiles, or something along those lines.

When he reached the cafeteria, he saw the pack. They were sitting at their normal table near the door to the outside, a habit they had acquired in order to have a quicker escape route, should anything happen. But, what really hurt Stiles was the fact that they were laughing and joking, happy as ever, despite what had happened recently. Their laughter reached his ears. Just as he stepped into the large room, Scott caught his eye and his grin turned to a frown as he looked away quickly. Stiles held back a whimper as he turned and walked away.

Stiles decided to sit outside instead. It was a little chilly, but he stayed. He couldn’t bear being ignored so harshly by the pack. He found a nice table near the lacrosse field, facing the edge of the forest. When he glanced up, however, images from That Night flashed through his eyes. He watched as Erica and Boyd were dragged away, and he was forced to suddenly relive the torture that he had gone through in Gerard’s basement.

Suddenly he was snapped out of his horrible daze by a voice calling him to reality. He looked around, not seeing who was saying his name. Finally, he spotted a person near the edge of the forest who was looking at him. Nobody else seemed to notice the shadowy figure. Hesitantly, he approached. It was the one and only Peter Hale.

 

“The hell are you doing here?” Stiles hissed through clenched teeth, blending into the shadows of the trees in order to stay hidden from wandering eyes.

 

Peter rolled his eyes before snarking back, “I feel so welcomed. Is there some food for me too?”

 

“This is school property, and during school hours,” Stiles huffed annoyedly. “You look really creepy and suspicious hanging around here. If anyone else saw you, they’d probably call the cops on you!”

 

“Very kind of you to be concerned, but unfortunately, this is the only time that I can really talk to you. I need to make sure I have an okay from the Sheriff before I actually meet him, you know?” 

 

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “What do you want with my dad?”

 

“Oh, not much, just a place to go because the current Hale Pack is boring and kind of unreasonable without you, and I was hoping I could hang out with you two.” Peter admitted.

 

Stiles gaped. “Wait, what? You want to  _ hang out  _ with us? What does that even mean?”

 

“It means,” Peter exaggerated by talking way slower, “I don’t want anything to do with the Hale Pack unless and until they get better, and I wanted to be part of whatever half-pack you and your dad are in. I can tell you’re magic by the way, so would it be a coven?”

 

“How the hell do you know about the magic?”

 

“I can smell it.” Before Stiles could freak out, though, he added, “But only because I have a much more powerful sense of smell. I don’t think any of the new wolves, or Derek would be able to sense it. I’ve had much more training, so I can sniff out a lot more.”

 

Relaxing slightly, Stiles replied, “I mean, I haven’t really practiced anything yet, so I don’t know if we would be considered a coven. And my dad’s not even magic, anyway.” He paused, then continued with, “I’ll definitely have to ask my dad about it, though.”

 

Peter grinned, and for once, it wasn’t creepy. “Thank you,” he spoke, then ran into the forest.

 

Stiles stared after him, confused. “The fuck?” he muttered before turning back to the school.

 

He spent the rest of the day picking apart and analyzing the conversation. Peter seemed extremely enthusiastic about leaving the Hale Pack, and while he gave quite a few reasons, Stiles still didn’t understand entirely why he wanted to join his so-called coven. With this in mind, he successfully made it through the rest of the school day, even being able to ignore the Hale Pack right back.

Finally, school ended. He left the school building, keeping his eyes peeled for the Sheriff cruiser. It wasn’t long before the car pulled up to the side of the road in front of the building. He hopped into the front seat, glad to be in the comforting presence of his dad and, unsurprising, Bronis. The Sheriff and the fox had taken to each other, hanging out when Stiles was at school. After a few exchanged greetings, the car fell silent and Stiles slumped over, relishing in the rare peace. He mulled over what he was going to say, mentally preparing himself to talking to Derek.

The minutes spent in the car went by too fast. It usually took around fifteen to twenty minutes to get to the Hale House from the school, but it only felt like five minutes before they pulled up in front of the large building. He breathed deeply, allowing himself a few more moments in the car before he faced the avoidance of his ex-friends. He knew Derek could hear his heartbeat, and for once, he also hoped that Peter was there. But when he stepped out, he couldn’t stop himself from being surprised to see the cars of the rest of the pack parked on the gravel, including Jackson’s obnoxious Porsche, who rarely came to the meetings before.

With a last comforting smile from his dad and a soft nudge from Bronis, Stiles left the car. As he walked up to the door, he forgot how to breathe and what to say and what to do and how to walk-. The door swung open and Peter stood there, a concerned expression on his face. 

“Stiles?” He asked, head tilted.

 

“Hey, Peter. I want to talk to Derek,” Stiles responded, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath in order to center himself.

 

“They’re in a pack meeting in the living room right now. Please don’t try to provoke him; that’s the best advice I can give right now.” Peter stepped aside, letting Stiles through. “He’s been rather… explosive, lately, and he’s only been calm around the pack.”S Stiles nodded and gave a strained smile.

 

A pack meeting, huh. Stiles knew he wasn’t pack anymore -maybe he never was- but hearing the laughter coming from the living room hurt Stiles, deep in his heart. It shouldn’t, but it still did. It also shouldn’t have hurt him in his heart when, as soon as he stepped into the living room, Derek stood up and growled, eyes flashing red and claws coming out.

The rest of the pack immediately followed suit, growling and moving to stand behind Derek. They trusted Derek to decide who was a threat, it seemed, and apparently, Stiles was dangerous to them. When he realized who had walked in, he calmed down. However, he still stayed tense and wary. The pack didn’t sit down, either, despite Stiles being of no danger to them.

“The hell are you doing here?” Derek grunted, crossing his arms.

 

“I’m here for a little explanation. Why’d you kick me out, huh?” Stiles shot back.

 

“Can’t kick you out if you were never in.”

Stiles’s eyebrow quirked up a fraction. However, he couldn’t let them know how much that truly affected him. He knew it was true, but he wasn’t completely prepared to hear it, either. “Good point, but I’d also like to know why you decided to take my friends away from me.”

 

Derek snorted. “They hung out with you because Scott was there. I just let Scott see why being friends with you was a bad idea.”

 

“Why’s that, huh?” Stiles muttered, processing that the pack were never, truly, his friends.

 

“You worked with the hunters, didn’t you?” Derek started. Stiles began to object, began to defend himself, but Derek rolled right over him, staring critically at Stiles. “You gave the information to find Erica and Boyd, right? You didn’t have any attachments to the pack; you’re not a wolf, so it’d be easy for you. I knew there was a reason I couldn’t trust you.”

 

Stiles huffed. “I’m not a wolf, but you are.” He stared right back into Derek’s green eyes. “You can hear my heartbeat, right?” Derek rolled his eyes and nodded. “Then you can hear that I’m not lying when I say, I did not betray your pack. I gave no information to the hunters. I promise you that.”

 

Derek snorted. “You learned from the hunters how to lie, then. You know who did that?”

 

Stiles flinched in shock, then took a deep breath to center himself. “I ought to slap you for comparing me to Kate Argent.” He countered immediately.

 

The rest of the pack gasped in surprise. Comparing someone to Kate was not something that could be done lightly. Accusations like that were heavy and never done jokingly. Derek genuinely thought Stiles was as horrible as Kate Argent.

 

“I can guarantee that I have never worked with hunters other than Chris, and you are even worse for ever thinking I could be as bad as her.” Stiles continued.

 

Derek was nearly at his breaking point, apparently. He growled threateningly, a last warning to the boy who challenged him. Stiles, however, didn’t back down.

 

“You can’t go back on your words, you know. As you said, I’m not a wolf, not pack, so I don’t have any connections to you. I’m not afraid of you.” Stiles pointed out.

 

Derek had enough. His eyes flashed bright red and roared in Stiles’s unflinching face. Then, he brought up his fist and aimed for Stiles’s face. Stiles, however, dodged backwards. He could see, in the corner of his eyes, Peter running into the room to see what was going on. He gasped.

Stiles, after hanging out with werewolves, knew how to growl, and he did. It rumbled low in his throat, a threatening challenge to Derek’s Alpha position. He didn’t want to fight, and backed away slowly, but he never lowered his eyes or head. He would not submit, and he wanted Derek to realize that he was not the leader of the world. He wanted Derek to think about his actions and accusations.

“You’re not pack, Stiles, and you never were.” Derek repeated as he watched Stiles leave. “Just remember that.”

 

As soon as he was out of the room, he quietly muttered to Peter under a spell of silence-one he had learned last night in order to talk to Peter without being heard but the pack. 

 

“I’ll introduce you to my dad and Bronis. We can go home, and I’m gonna go upstairs to cry, watch Star Wars, and eat ice cream.” 

 

. The ride home was tense. The Sheriff was pleased to meet Peter, if a little wary, but they bonded over snarky humor and a mutual adoration over James Bond. Bronis had immediately snuggled up against the wolf, causing both John and Stiles to relax considerably. Bronis was a clever fox, and was smart enough to know who to trust and who not to. However, as John and Peter conversed, neither realized that Stiles felt a sharp pain in his chest, right where his heart was. Right next to his Spark.

When Stiles got home, he stayed true to his word. He had maintained a steady facade to whole way home, but as soon as he stepped into the safety of his own room, he began to panic. After practically slamming down his carton of ice cream and close his door, he fell into a state of haziness. He barely managed to cast a strong enough silencing spell, as to not worry his father or Bronis or, hell, even Peter, before he collapsed onto the floor and was launched into one of the most painful panic attacks in a long time. It was intensified by the sharp stabs of agony in his chest.

He sobbed harshly, gasping to fill his lungs with not-quite-full-enough breaths, clawing at his chest to inhale, and coughing and spluttering when he exhaled-he couldn’t lose his breath, no, no, no, he had to live, but for what? His only friends believed he was a liability, believed he had betrayed them, and where was Erica and Boyd through all this? He needed help and they stood there, in the corner.

And now he felt the gazes still on him, the humiliating whispers from Scott, Jackson, and Lydia, he felt the pain and loneliness of being cast out of a pack that he never truly was in, and he felt that he was human. that, and being completely defenseless, were practically his only traits, weren’t they? He felt the crushing realization of his uselessness. How could he protect his dad if he was so useless?

That thought bounced around his head until he passed out from the intense pain that was still growing in his chest.

 

How can you protect anyone if you are so useless?

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

As soon as Stiles left the house, Derek regretted all of his choices. He stood there, watching, pack in the background, as he left with Peter in tow, neither looking pack. Stiles’s heart maintained it’s normally erratic beat, which would have easily hid any lie he told, anyway.

But then Derek would be lying.

Derek had memorized every little rhythm. In the past year or so, he always heard Stiles’s heart the strongest. In fact, he found himself to seek the heartbeat if he was lonely. He learned the odd heartbeat, knowing when each thump would happen. It was a comforting oddity. Kate had a simple, peaceful heartbeat. Stiles’s spun so wildly out of control that it would be impossible to lie; Kate’s rhythm was fake, while Stiles’s was so _ crazy  _ that it would be peaceful if he lied.

But still, Derek had sent him out, driven him away.

Still, Derek had forced him to leave.

However, he was not prepared for the sudden pain in his chest that sent him crashing to the floor, helpless as he watched his betas following soon after. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was nearly midnight was Stiles gasped awake again, haunted by the sight of a grinning Gerard and now, the endless spiral carved into skin and the glistening fangs and eyes of Derek. The house was quiet, other than the soft snores coming from the Sheriff’s room. He was in his bed, which meant his dad had probably come in to check on Stiles and found him lying on the floor, covered in tears and blood and cuts-wait, what?

He scrambled from under the covers, almost tripping over his feet in order to race to the hallway. When he reached the bathroom, he stared at his scrawny figure in the mirror. Cuts lined his arms and face, but what was particularly gruesome was his chest. When he flicked on the light, his breath caught in his throat. His shirt was soaked in blood, not enough to have bled through a few hours ago, which meant that the Sheriff had most likely not noticed it, but enough to seep through over the course of a few minutes after. He tore off his shirt and gaped in pain and horror.

His chest was torn up by his own nails, claw marks of his own making. Blood clotted slowly, but it was still flowing rather freely. One of his nails had gone deep enough to have probably nicked an artery. But, what truly terrified Stiles was a single, golden but blood-dyed string, snipped right from under his skin.

It was a pack bond, severed by the harsh words from Derek.


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles deals with the aftermath of the broken pack bond, and the Darach gets an introduction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so sorry for how long it took me to write this chapter! It's literally only been three chapters and I'm already losing my motivation for this story.. But don't worry! Even if it takes me a few months to update, I will never forget this story! I will always continue writing it until it's time comes! Thank you so much for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy!

He watched as the gold slowly faded away, entranced by the dimming shimmer of the string. He snapped out of it when he found himself staring blankly at a grey, dissolving,  _ crumbling _ string. Finally, it turned to fluttering ash, fading into the air in the bathroom. He fell onto the cold, bloody floor.

He screamed.

It wasn’t a high-pitched banshee scream like Lydia, or a powerful werewolf howl like Scott or Derek. It was simply human, filled with pain and terror and misery and  _ pure, absolute agony _ . He screamed until his voice grew hoarse and raw, sobbing and clutching at his throat and chest after.

Peter, who had been offered the guest room and thus could hear Stiles,, and John burst into the room, Bronis leading the group. The fox immediately curled up around Stiles, leeching the pain and negative emotions through their magical bond. The Sheriff rummaged through the cabinet, barely containing his panic as he searched for the first aid kit. Peter kneeled down, joining Bronis to take away all the pain. When John finally found the first aid kit, he helped bandage Stiles up.

Stiles simply sat on the ground, barely noticing the panicking people around him. He didn’t hear his dad ask if he was okay, didn’t hear the frantic call to Aria. He was lost in his own world. For just a brief second, he imagined Isaac, or Erica, hell, even Boyd, cuddling up to him to comfort him. The thought only served to make him even more miserable. Now that they were not longer a pack, they couldn’t be there anymore,  _ wouldn’t  _ be there anymore, simply because they didn’t  _ want _ to be there. Sure, they were all there in the beginning, but really, who drove them away but himself?

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

He could barely stand afterwards, weak with pain - both emotional and physical. Aria had come not long after the call was made. She looked rushed and panicked, a complete turn from her usual composed and regal self.  It took almost another hour for Stiles to become responsive enough to tell Aria what happened.

 

“You saw the pack bond?” She repeated, baffled. 

“Yeah, why?” Stiles replied. Of course, that meant he had technically been in the pack, but he didn’t think mentioning that he didn’t think that before was very useful.

 

Aria, apparently, would have agreed. She seemed extremely confused by just this.

 

“If you were able to see, and not die, or at least become much more emotionally torn apart, from, a broken pack bond, you are a much stronger magic user than I first anticipated.” 

 

Everyone in the room straightened up immediately, ready for explanations.

 

“You see, when a wolf goes feral, like Peter did,” Aria sends an apologetic glance to Peter who simply shrugged, “it’s usually because a pack bond breaks, or an anchor is gone, and they lose their mind. But, if only one specific person is cut off, the pain is often much worse. And with humans, pack bonds are often more fragile and can cause worse side effects. Unfortunately, not only is your pain magnified, but those side effects include both insanity and sometimes death.” Aria explained.

 

John practically went wild. “What the hell you you mean by death? Is Stiles gonna die? What’s gonna happen if he goes insane too? Can I st-” He gets cut off by Aria, who calmly continued.

 

“He’s not going to die, or go insane. Broken pack bonds affect humans almost immediately. We would have been seeing signs hours ago, probably a little before he screamed, if I’m to be exact. I warned you just in case it does happen, but he is an exceptional spark.” Aria smiled down at Stiles. “I’m quite certain he may grow to be an Archmage before he’s twenty!”

 

“An Archmage?” Stiles wondered.

 

“Yes. They are extremely powerful magical beings. A mage is simply a magic user of normal status and power. You are currently an apprentice, mine, to be exact, meaning you have not yet reached your full potential yet, but I do not suspect it will be long before you become at least a mage.” Aria said.

 

Stiles's eyes grew wide, a light smile on his lips as he thought about finally being important, someone who didn’t have to rely on a wolf anymore. This made him sad, of course, but surrounded by his new pack, he didn’t feel so upset - didn’t feel so lonely.

 

“If it’s not too much trouble, however, I’d like to get to training Stiles when the after he comes school. That means you should sleep now, as you have to be in your best condition to practice magic without growing tired easily.” Aria said sternly, reminding the rest that it was still in the middle of the night. “We’ll still be here, Stiles, so don’t worry. Try to sleep as much as much as possible.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Stiles, somehow, managed to sleep without too much trouble. He was able to stay asleep, his subconscious knowing that Bronis, Aria, Peter, and his dad would be there when he woke up. When he did, it was already seven, just before his alarm for school went off. He felt sore and his chest and other injuries still stung whenever he moved, but he found it was easier to manage.

Aria had left to her own home, conveniently located almost exactly between her shop and the Stilinski Household. She only had time to greet Stiles, also reminding him to watch out to how the werewolves acted around him and to listen for mentions of the pack bond. Peter, eager to do something, agreed to shop for Bronis’s supplies, and the fox was content to sit atop his shoulders as he watched Stiles get prepared for school.

The Sheriff, having a rare day off, stumbled through the house while Stiles cooked. The house was busier than usual, especially in the morning, and it was very weird to see the adjustment. Before, well, all this, the two Stilinski’s never really had time to talk in the morning. Now, it was a full house. Peter slowly worked his way into conversations, clever remarks that were not invasive. It was nicer than how he’d remembered.

Finally, it was time for Stiles to leave. He waved goodbye and headed to his Jeep outside, shivering at the crisp weather. He was slightly wary about leaving the house, not knowing what plot-forwarding events would happen next. Luckily for him, very little happened to warrant too much suspicion. Until, of course, he walked into the library during lunch, and spotted Lydia in a lonely aisle pouring over a book written in Archaic Latin, taking notes in a notebook (Stiles’s old research notebook!).

Unable to quell his curiosity, he crept to the shelf behind Lydia to see what she was reading. After being the researcher in a wolf pack, one that had records of French hunters, it was unavoidable to know even the basics of Latin, French, and a little bit of Archaic Latin, too. In fact, Deaton had manuscripts written in old Runic language, so he was rather knowledgeable in the matters languages.

He couldn’t help smirking when he heard Lydia cursing, unable to decipher the meaning of a few words. Of course, it wasn’t as if the library had Archaic Latin dictionaries, but the smugness in him was unavoidable anyway. The pack usually went to her for translations, but there were times that even she didn't know what something said. He glanced through a few lines, trying to get an understanding of what she was researching. His eyebrows rose in confusion. What was a Darach? They only really researched anything if the pack was in danger of something, so it was almost certain that it was important.

The rest of the page barely had any information, only saying that it was a powerful dark druid, but very little was known about it. Lydia’s (Stiles’s!) notebook had practically no information, either. Stiles supposed he’d have to ask Aria after school, as well as look through the Stilinski-Hale Grimoire. However, he also texted Peter to get any valuable information from the separate Hale Bestiary.

During the rest of school, the pack sent wary glaces, a few of the werewolves trying to hide them massaging their chest - right above the heart. That meant they were affected by the bond breaking, too. He wondered if Derek had told them what it was, or if he simply brushed them off. Or maybe they asked Deaton, and he simply answered with an obscure definition and sent them along. 

Even humans in the school could probably sense the distress and pain rolling off of Stiles in waves, so he was left alone for the most part. Thank God for the smallest of miracles. Nobody approached his bubble of misery and despair. Instead, he simply scrolled through his phone, sending an occasional text to his dad and Peter to get information. After a little while, though, they simply told Stiles to ‘get off your phone, we’ll tell you later!’

Finally, the bell signalled the end of the day. Rushing out of the school, he hopped into his Jeep to begin the half an hour or so drive to Aria’s house. With the mention of a Darach, Aria had immediately invited (ordered) Peter and John over as well. Must be major, then.

The long stretch of road was rather boring, with the occasional houses scattered along. He sang along to the radio, tapping his fingers onto his steering wheel. And if he went a little over the speed limit, his dad couldn’t really blame him. After all, even the Sheriff gets tired of boring roads.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

At last, he reached the house. It was a rather modest building, a little smaller than Stiles’s own home. The yard was well trimmed and a single tree stood tall. A small sidewalk leading to the door was surrounded by flowers of all types and colors, despite it being winter (idk when this story even takes place anymore okay). He got out of his car, making sure to grab the Stilinski-Hale Grimoire out from the backseat. When he stepped up to ring the doorbell, Aria opened the door before he could even reach up. 

 

“Hey! Your dad and Peter are already here. They’re in the living room, and I’m just making some tea.” She said, ushering Stiles into the house.

 

“Thank you!” Stiles replied, though mostly absentmindedly. He observed the decor, appreciating the cheerful attitude of the inside. Pastel colors covered the walls, while darker-shaded floorboards covered the floors. 

 

John was conversing with Peter in the living room, books and loose pieces of paper strewn across the coffee table in front of them. Stiles plopped down onto the couch across from his dad, carefully placing the Grimoire onto the table. He huffed, stretching onto the couch to relax.

“Any information?” He asked.

 

John furrowed his brow. “Not much,” he began, “but we did find a few pages. The books said that Darachs are dark druids, usually corrupted by sacrificing people in order to get power, specifically in the Five-fold Knot sacrifice or something. They can gain and store power from this tree I think.”

 

“The Nemeton, actually.” Aria corrected, walking in with a tray of tea and cookies. How pretentious. “There is one in the Preserve. It’s one of the reasons why the Hale Pack grew to be so strong. They gained a lot of magical strength by drawing from the power of the Nemeton. In return, they protected it.”

 

“So, what, we destroy the Nemeton?” John questioned. “That sounds pretty simple to me.”

 

“Too simple.” Peter butted in. “The Nemeton isn’t necessarily an evil place. But, it’s easily manipulated. That’s why my family protected it. A lot of ley lines converge at the Nemeton, too. If we destroy the Nemeton, or even the trees around it, a lot of magical power will be released. That’s going to bring a lot of unwanted attention in the world of supernatural beings.”

 

“He’s right. The Nemeton naturally draws them closer anyway, but an action that strong is going to weaken a lot of the magic here, and leave Beacon Hills vulnerable for attack. In the worst case, demons might try to make this place a hellmouth, and that’s not exactly something you want.” Aria finished.

 

Stiles and his father stared at Aria, processing all the information.

 

“Great, so what do we do now?” Stiles muttered after a minute of silence.

 

Aria thought for a little. “Well, the reason why the Nemeton has been so wild right now is due to the lack of protection. Without the Hale’s watching over it, there isn’t a very good sense of balance at the moment. As a druid, doctor Deaton should be the one regulating the power, but I fear that he may want the power for himself. I’m not saying he’s corrupt like a Darach, but harnessing a Nemeton for a single magic user like him will give him a massive amount of power.”

 

“So, why don’t you protect it instead?” Stiles asked.

 

“It’s Hale property. I am not connected to the current Hale Alpha or emissary, which is Deaton, and I doubt I would be able to get permission to, in his perspective, tamper with the Nemeton.” Aria regretfully answered.

 

Peter sighed. “True, it is. I’m afraid I can’t do anything, either. I’ve technically left the Hale pack, so I while I am of Hale blood, I can’t give you steady permission either. With the state of Derek’s mind, I’m nearly entirely sure he would attack you.”

 

John huffed in annoyance. “So, what now? We just wait it out and see what happens to it?”

 

“Well,” Aria started, a glint in her eye, “a magic user whose blood was already tied to the land can also provide balance the Nemeton. So, what do you say, Stiles?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

After the discussion, Aria immediately began training Stiles. As they reviewed how to protect the Nemeton from the Darach, she taught him the basics of magic, including the objects involved, the types of magic, and the types of magic users. “You really don’t want to be caught in a battle against someone who can overpower you with their magic,” Aria had explained to Stiles. “I’m an Elementalist, so I can’t teach you many instinctual spells past that, unfortunately.”

The half-moon was bright in the sky by the time they finished. John and Peter had already left a long time ago, saying they could concentrate with researching better without the spouts of information Aria was teaching Stiles. When Stiles had packed up all of the notes that his dad and Peter forgot to bring, he and Aria discussed their training schedule. 

Everyday after school, he would head over to her house to train. On Saturdays, he would come at around noon. Sunday was his break day. Then, his mentor sent him off with a quick ‘Be careful,’ and, ‘Keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior.’ When he walked out of the door, waving goodbye to Aria, he dialed his father’s number in order to provide some kind of distraction as he made his way back the long and tedious road. John, luckily, picked up. Well, more exactly, Peter picked up.

“Stiles?” He said, confused.

 

“Yeah, hey. I’m just really bored. How much information have you gotten?” He responded, steering the Jeep out of the driveway and putting the phone on speaker.

 

“Oh,” Peter huffed, “not much. We got through most of the notes but we can’t exactly translate some of this. John said you might, so we’re just waiting for you now.”

 

Stiles, about to reply, was cut off by the distant voice of his dad. “That doesn’t mean you can speed as much as you’d like, and this call had better be on speaker!”

 

Sighing, Stiles assured John. “Don’t worry dad, I won’t. I’m already on the highway and there’s like… no cars around, though.”

 

“....No more than ten miles over, you hear me?” John hesitantly relented.

 

Stiles grinned. “Yessir!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Finally, he arrived back home. Nothing felt better than collapsing on his couch in exhaustion. It was already December (aha! That’s when this takes place!) so night had come by five, but it was ten now and he was  _ tired. _

 

“So,” he groaned, not exactly eager to translate, “where are those notes?”

 

John eyed his son. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until tomorrow? You seen absolutely exhausted.”

 

“I am.” Stiles replied, but grabbed his laptop and the notes written in Archaic Latin nonetheless. Peter and John looked on with worry, but Stiles sighed and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ll sleep by midnight, okay? I don’t have any tests tomorrow so I won’t really need to stay focused.”

 

John raised an eyebrow. “You’re slacking in school?” He asked, but it sounded more like an accusation.

 

“If I can maintain my current grades through high school, I’d graduate salutatorian, dad. I've got a 4.6 GPA, what more do you want?”

 

“Not valedictorian?” Peter snorted.

 

Stiles nearly laughed. “Lydia’s too smart. She’d probably kill me if I took on that minimal chance, anyways.”

 

John sighed, accepting it. “Well, okay. Just, make sure to get enough sleep. Call one of us if you need anything, or if you have a nightmare, okay?”

 

Stiles nodded, smiling lightly as he immersed himself in nonsensical letters and symbols. He missed the loving and proud look his dad gave him.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Bronis, not one to go against rules, apparently, crawled on Stiles laptop keyboard to draw him out of his daze. It was nearing three a.m., and he was still frantically translating. However, he also found himself almost done with the pile of notes; only three more pages left. 

Brushing his hand through Bronis’s fur, he stretched. “Thanks, Bronis. I'll finish these and then I'll sleep, okay? Thank you.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The next day, he regretted staying up so late. Harris, ever the asshole, passed out a test they had taken the last week. Luckily, he had gotten almost everything right. Unluckily, Harris had marked his extra credit wrong, and while it shouldn’t have affected his total grade, he had gotten points taken off. He raised his hand, ready to make a complaint.

 

“Mr. Harris,” he started when he was called on, “you took off points for my extra credit even though it shouldn’t have affected my grade at all. Also, I had all of the necessary points, so you shouldn’t have taken points off in the first place. I should have an A- at the very least, not a C.”

 

The class stared in shock. This was one of the hardest tests yet, as they had not yet learned about the subject yet.

 

Harris raised an eyebrow. “Stilinkski, you realize that I am in control of your grade, and you have no opinion in it whatsoever?”

 

Stiles snorted. “But I actually do have the most control over my grade. And, with the unfair way you’re ‘teaching’ us,” Stiles air-quoted ‘teaching’, “I also have a bit of control over your job.”

 

Harris’s eyes narrowed and glared. “After-school detention, Stilinski, for two days. No talking back to the teacher.” And the topic was closed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

During lunch, Stiles retreated back to the library. Unfortunately, none of the pack members were anywhere in the library, but Stiles stayed anyway. After getting his lunch approved by the librarian, he sat down at the table furthest from the door. He pulled out his phone, texting his dad and Peter about the unfairness of Mr. Harris, which his dad laughed at, and that he would be late to Aria’s house.

Bored, he started on his homework, eager to get it done before school ended and he would have to go to Aria’s house. Of course, he still had detention to do it, but he had no idea if Harris would let him. Once he finished his homework with not even five minutes left of lunch, he scribbled down any key notes about the Darach as well as a few unfinished translations into his notebook for later. He may be stuck with the most unreasonable teacher for detention, but even he couldn't stop Stiles from solving this goddamn mystery.

He rushed to get his things together for the next block. He was still a little stuck in his head, notes and information bouncing around his head. Fortunately, there was only one more block until he could leave school. It wasn’t anything big, just History, so he felt relaxed.

However, halfway through History, the intercom came on.

 

“ _Stiles Stilinski, please come down to the front office for early dismissal_.” It said.

 

Stiles, unaware of any early dismissal, froze up slightly and became wary. He left the classroom and headed to his locker, trying to brainstorm who it could be. It might just be his dad needing his help with something supernatural, or maybe it was someone notifying him about some crazy car crash that landed his dad in the hospital. He winced. God, he hoped it wasn’t that.

He was pleasantly surprised when he saw Peter standing in the lobby, leaning against the doorway and scrolling through his phone. Stiles caught his eye, raising his eyebrow. 

 

“Peter?” He snorted. 

 

Said werewolf smirked, gesturing to the front doors of the building. “Hello, Little Red Riding Hood.”

 

Stiles made a face. “What the hell kind of name is that?” 

 

“Well, you run with wolves, and you’re also wearing a bright red hoodie. I think it’s appropriate, don’t you?” Peter laughed, opening the doors.

 

Huffing (haha, get it?) , Stiles responded, “Does that make you the Big Bad Wolf or something?”

 

“Nah, I don’t eat Grandma’s, and I’d rather not be killed by some hunters.” Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm assuming the Argent's are the hunters in this weirdly detailed hypothetical situation?"

 

“I think so, but I _don't_ think my dad would be the Grandma, though. Seriously, he'd be very annoyed if he heard that. Also, switching our topic away from children's stories, did you get the supplies for Bronis? I forgot to ask, like, two days ago or something.” Stiles wondered as they got into Peter’s car.

 

"Yeah, sorry I didn't tell you. I bought them yesterday, but haven't exactly had a chance to unpack. Aria said to feed only a little food to Bronis, and she would be able to hunt for the rest. She's a magical familar, and she should be safe from most harm." Peter replied.

 

Stiles grinned. "Thank you! I may have hated you from the Alpha days, and you were a bit of an asshole throughout the kanima anyway, but right now you are the best person. Also, why'd you pick me up?" 

 

“Oh, uh, thanks? Also, yeah, no reason really. I just didn’t want you to suffer in detention. God, there’s another reason why I wanted to kill Harris when I was all Alpha-fied or whatever. He’s an asshole.” Peter admitted.

 

Stiles snorted. “You went to school with him, right? ”

 

Peter nodded, sighing as bad memories of him resurfaced. “Never liked him. He always creeped me out.”

 

“Agreed,” Stiles started. “He never liked me, and I’ve always hated him. It’s like he has some unfounded grudge against me, and his face is so creepy. Have you ever seen him without glasses? We saw him at that rave back when we had to trap the kanima, and he…” Stiles rambled on, encouraged by Peter’s small remarks.

 

Eventually, they reached the magic store, parking the car in the mostly empty lot. It was still during the school day, so it made sense that very few people would be here at the time. When they walked in, Aria bounded out from her office. 

 

"So, Stiles, are you up for a tattoo?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if the ending seems kinda rushed, it is... I lost around two pages at the end because Google Docs is messing with me, so I don't think it's the best quality ending... I really do hope you enjoyed this though! Leave comments and kudos, and I will see you next time I remember to write! Love y'all!
> 
> I should be able to update sooner next time, by the way. I usually write on my computer, but since it's being all funky, I'll be using a keyboard case on my iPad, which should work easier!


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets some tattoos, then fucks up. Derek thinks the Darach is nearer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, soooo sorry for how entirely late this is. I know my excuses don't mean anything, so I won't even try. I have SOL's coming up in less than a month, but after that, I should have a lot more time to write. I've actually had this typed up for a while, but I didn't really know how to end it. It's really short, and I apologize for that, however.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter! If there are any continuity or grammar mistakes, please let me know and I'll do my best to correct it! Love y'all, and enjoy!

Stiles stared for a few seconds. “A tattoo?” He repeated.

Aria shrugged. “That’s right. You’re 17, and with your dad’s permission, it would technically be legal for you to get a tattoo.”

“Okay, well I know that, but why do I need a tattoo?” He asked.

“Control runes, power increasing runes, your spirit symbol, and actually a few more, but what’s also important is also the symbol you need to connect them all,” Aria listed.

“What do you mean a connecting symbol?” Stiles wondered.

“It’s a ‘boss tattoo’, in a way. It’s the main tattoo that the others center on.” Aria explained. “It’ll be a lot bigger than the others, so all of the others will connect to it easier.”

Stiles nodded. He knew exactly what he wanted. “Well,” he began, hesitant to speak, “I’m afraid of needles. Kind of. Mostly.”

Aria sighed. “Well, you don’t need to worry. Just don’t look at it, and pay attention to your dad. I already got his permission, so he should be here soon.”

As if he was summoned, the Sheriff walked in, still wearing his uniform. “Peter, I told you not to pick Stiles up from school!” He scolded.

Peter snorted. “You knew you couldn’t stop me. Why try? Besides, we’re here now, no need to yell.”

John sighed. “Rather unfortunate that I’ve come to accept that, ain’t it? Anyways,” he directed his attention to Aria, who was amusedly looking onto the conversation, “here’s those guardian forms you needed for the tattoos. They should be enough to do whatever.”

Stiles made a protesting sound. “Don’t say ‘whatever’! I’m going to be tattooed with magical symbols! What if people think I’m in some kind of cult? What about the locker room?”

The three adults gave a flat look. “For one, both your control and power are needed for the safety of Beacon Hills. For two, if that’s how it works, you’re gonna look badass as hell,” Peter responded.

Stiles relented, following Aria into the back as she explained the tattoos he was getting today. As many were large symbols that had to be done at once, he would be getting the simple ones first: a medium-sized control rune and the base of the five elements. Unfortunately, since the element tattoo would be added to later, the control for that specific type of magic would be slightly less stable, so Aria warned Stiles to avoid those spells. He was hesitant to agree, as he had found a really cool fire spell the day before, but he nodded anyway.  
The group made their way through the office and into the magical shop behind. There were, surprisingly enough, quite a few more customers here than in the bookstore. Instead of stopping in the main area, however, Aria led them into the door labeled ‘Tattoos’. It was a reasonably sized tattoo parlor, drawings of runes and animals hung up on nearly every open area of the walls. 

“Sarah!” Aria called, presumably to the tattoo artist. However, they were all shocked when a small, nimble ferret scurried through the room, jumping and landing onto Aria’s shoulder.

“This is Sarah, my familiar,” she introduced. “When I begin to tattoo you, I will be using both my magic and yours, and I will need her to channel that in order to activate the magic in these symbols. Speaking of, do you know what connecting symbol you want?”

Stiles hesitated. Of course, the first thing he had thought of was the Triskelion, but would Derek be okay with that? But then he remembered, Derek had no say in his actions now. The Triskelion had been used by his family too. So, before he lost his courage, he responded, “I want the Triskelion.”

Peter’s eyebrows raised, and John made a questioning noise. Both Stiles and Aria ignored them. “Interesting choice, Stiles.” Aria replied, but nodded. She gestured to the seat in front of them. “Now, off with your shirt. If you want these done before midnight, we had better start now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once the tattoos, which decorated his back, was finished, the sun was already halfway past the horizon. The triskele itself covered his entire lower back and looped around the sides of his abdomen. The elemental tattoos were on his arms and legs to prevent too many tattoos to be on his back. They were already stinging like hell, so he was rather glad it was already a Thursday. His father, though annoyed, was lenient enough to allow him the day home. Of course, that meant he was going to be researching rather than practicing his magic with Aria, due to the currently unstable elemental magic.  
He, of course, was too impatient. Who did she think he was? He wasn’t going to go out of control-really! Besides, that fire spell he’d found wasn’t really difficult either. It couldn’t do more than causing some smoke, anyway. He wasn’t powerful enough yet. Right?  
So when they got home, his father leaving for a night shift at the station and Peter heading off to wherever he goes when he’s not sleeping, Stiles headed to his bedroom and pulled out the Grimoire to study the spell. Bronis curled up beside him, resting her head on his lap. The spell was simple, about as powerful as a cigarette lighter. It was an easy starter, just enough to cast light in times where the caster was too tired to actually start anything more powerful. Luckily, it was just Stiles’s level.  
As the night had fallen to a dark, nearly moonless abyss, Stiles and Bronis, who had casually followed her companion, cautiously crept outside to his backyard. It led immediately to the Preserve, where he hoped nobody would catch him. The air was chilly despite the red hoodie he was wearing, and he was excited to hurry up and feel the warmth of the fire. A small clearing soon presented itself, shadowed and foreboding. However, Stiles, having explored the woods from top to bottom, day and night, when he was younger, recognized the small area as his favorite place to relax.  
Finally, they settled down onto a fallen tree. Stiles looked over the spell one last time. Bronis, curious to see what was going on, settled onto his shoulders. He shut his eyes, doing his best to channel the magic, slowly chanted the words in Archaic Latin. Suddenly, a small glow appeared in front of his closed eyes. When his eyelids cracked open, he gasped when he saw the most beautiful little flickers of flames. They emerged from the middles of his palms, reaching up to dance around his nimble fingers, yet they never burned. He could simply feel the aura of magic flowing off of the embers. It was simple, but amazing.  
However, that didn’t last. A howl burst into the air, most likely from one of the werewolves. The sudden noise startled Stiles, causing him to lose the grasp he had on the spell. With a blinding flare, the fire lept and twirled higher and higher into the air, wrapping itself around a low-hanging branch. Despite Stiles’s best attempts to quell the fire, it didn’t obey, encompassing an entire tree into a glorious yet terrifying sight. The flames licked at his shocked face.  
Bronis shrieked, tugging at Stiles’s sleeve, as if to tell him to do something. Snapped out of his daze, he muttered a quick water spell he had learned with Aria before things could get any worse. Soon, the only evidence of his horrible mistake was the smoking, hollow, burned-out shell of the unfortunate tree. He stared in shock before rushing back to his home, Bronis racing by his side,. He did not notice the perfect Triskelion that had been burned into the trunk.  
He entered the back door and absentmindedly locked everything up. He felt tired, and he didn’t know what to do. He should have known that creating the fire would have been a bad idea, at least while his control was still horrible with the tattoos. He called over Bronis, but shockingly, the fox paid no mind. She simply glanced at Stiles with disdain before sauntering off the Peter’s room.  
‘Great,’ he thought. ‘Now look at what you’ve done. Not even your own familiar wants you anymore.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Derek raced through the forest, terrified but determined. After smelling the acrid scent of magic and fire from where he was on a run, he had shot up, hoping it was nothing. Unfortunately, he was proved wrong when he heard the piecing cry of an animal, filled with fear and urgency. The smell came from the edge of the forest, but it was possible that it would not be contained by the time it reached the center. However, there was also a tiny edge of magic as well.  
Finally, he reached the clearing. He realized it was rather close to Stiles’s house, so he made sure he stayed hidden in the trees. Shockingly, he only saw a the burnt husk of a single tree. The clearing, however, had the strong stench of ozone and sulfur, as well as intense fear, loneliness, and sadness. There was a faint scent of something extremely pleasant and slightly familiar, but since he could not put a name as to what it was, he paid no mind to it. All he knew was that somebody had been practicing magic here.  
He slowly walked around the tree examining it’s ashy bark. A familiar symbol caught his eye. The large swirls and triangular center was engraved in the back, perfect and exact. The Triskele. Most likely a threat, he realized with a jolt. But by who? A magic user of unknown power sending out this kind of message to the pack was a major threat. They already had the Alpha Pack and the Darach to deal with.  
And then it clicked. A magic user, sending out a threat. It was the Darach. Derek hissed, turning in order to run through the forest and head back to his loft. He would discuss it with the pack and Dr. Deaton tomorrow. Maybe Peter would come back from wherever the hell he was, and he could interrogate Peter about who the Darach might be and what Stiles is up to.  
Stiles. Derek froze. His chest ached with a strange emptiness, but he simply brushed it off, assuming it was just the pack bonds. How was Stiles anyway? Hopefully he was gone, as the broken pack bond had suggested. It had already been two weeks, and while the pack said they’ve seen him at school, he apparently avoided them the most he could. Isaac, the most experienced one by far, has repeatedly pointed out his new scent of bitterness, both emotional and literal. Erica complained that it almost completely covered his old scent of honey and rain. Both Scott and Derek had to remind them that they shouldn’t care about Stiles.  
It probably wasn’t healthy, avoiding their problems like this, but there was a much larger issue at hand. The Darach was on the move, and it wouldn’t be long until they would be attacked directly. Growling, he turned and headed back to the Hale house. When he could see the edges of the faded building through the trees, he faced the sky and howled, urgent and fearful. It was nearly ten at night, he wanted to make sure the rest of the pack knew about what danger could arise, and what to look out for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to skip the pack meeting next chapter because I have a lot of stuff I want to add in then! 
> 
> Don't forget to comment and give some kudos! It really makes me feel warm and fluffy inside when I see that y'all still like this story, even through I suck at updating and writing! Love y'all!


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